


Crutches

by SmilingAlwaysSmiling



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilingAlwaysSmiling/pseuds/SmilingAlwaysSmiling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern!AU with Theon, Robb, and Jon as flatmates. Theon has been in love with Robb for years and is trying to give up on it. It doesn't go so smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanksgiving

                Thanksgiving is a family holiday, by nature. No one gives gifts, there are no egg hunts, and there are no fireworks. The entire point of Thanksgiving is to spend time being thankful for the things you have and thankful for the time you have with your family.

                Thanksgiving has never been Theon’s favorite holiday.

                He’s not exactly thankful for the things he owns. He’s proud, because he’s bought them himself by working the stupidest and most unwanted shifts in an assortment of stupid and unwanted professions. Most recently, he’s been working 1AM to 9AM at the copy shop down the road from his flat. During the average shift, he only sees customers in the final two hour stretch between 7 and 9 when students from the nearby university frantically rush in to make copies. Theon’s collected quite a wardrobe over the last few years, though a huge amount of it is meant to look much less expensive than it really was. He’s got a rather large movie collection which he keeps in the living room of his shared flat. He’s got a larger book collection, which he keeps in the closet in his room. He doesn’t have a TV, because Robb’s TV is in the living room. He doesn’t have a game system, because Jon brought the PS3 and the Xbox 360 when they moved in. He’s got his clothing, his movies, and his books. He’s got his laptop, his bed, and his phone. All of which he’s bought himself.

                He’s definitely not thankful for time spent with his family, because he doesn’t spend time with his family. He hasn’t spoken more than ten sentences to his father this year. And he hasn’t spoken to Asha in three months, even though they’re on okay terms. He avoids his uncles. Nothing about a born-again Christian appeals to him. He’s actively afraid of his uncle Euron, though he’s only even met the man three times. Victarion has been around more often, though he scares Theon in a completely different way.

                Thanksgiving is not a Greyjoy holiday and it never has been.

                It is, however, a big Stark holiday. It’s worse than Christmas or Easter, because even the Tully family comes over for Thanksgiving.

                Robb can usually convince Theon to join him on the holidays. It’s a nice sentiment, but it’s always awful. Robb doesn’t really understand that joining in on someone else’s holiday is worse than spending the day alone. But it seems to make Robb happy, so he always shows up.

                Jon gets it. Theon detests Jon for being whiney and moody, but Jon’s always in the same boat during the holidays.

                Thanksgiving in particular is their least favorite. At least during the other holidays, it’s just the Stark family. But when the Tully family arrives, Jon instantly needs to get out. Things aren’t exactly _worse_ for Theon when the Tullys are around, but he hates it all the same.

                Robb adores Thanksgiving, because Robb honestly is thankful for his family. It is, in equal measures, vastly endearing and really fucking annoying.

                It’s good to see Robb fitting so nicely, as always. And he’s always excited to see his family. But Theon loathes hanging around the edges and ignoring the fact that he’s never had the right kind of family for Thanksgiving.

                The food is usually great, but Theon’s never interested in eating it until the day after. Sitting around the huge dining room table isn’t any more appealing when he’s squished between Edmure and Lysa.

                Robb’s in his element, though. He’s smiling and passing along a plate of crescent rolls. All of the autumnal themed decorations match his hair. If you took a quick scan of the room, it would look like a picture perfect event. The Tullys and most of the Stark children all with their red hair and bright blue eyes. The Starks all show enough family resemblance to make it obvious that this is the coming together of two families.

                And Theon, who doesn’t have anywhere to go on Thanksgiving and is sandwiched between two (entirely unappealing) redheads. Robb looks up at him from across the table and smiles just for him before passing him the cranberry sauce.

                Theon thinks that even if there were a million realities, Robb would always be the kind of person who remembers everyone’s favorite side dish. He resigns himself to sitting through dinner, because it’s miserable but being here means Robb won’t worry about what he’s doing alone on Thanksgiving. And it’s worth avoiding eye contact with Lysa, who breastfeeds at the table, if it means making Robb happy.

                On his left, Edmure is steadily turning redder as he drinks. It’s interesting to see that it’s a Tully trait and isn’t unique to Robb (Theon would mention it, but he’s a good enough friend to not throw Robb under the bus by bringing up all of the late night stumbles they’ve made it through.).

                He notices Sansa pretending not to text while Arya makes a volcano out of her mashed potatoes using a fork. Bran is listening intently to a story of Benjen’s while Rickon uses his _hands_ to make a mashed potato volcano. He looks further down the table and sees that Brynden is the one instructing the children in starch-based mountain construction. Catelyn is looking on in fond exasperation. Ned is cutting the Turkey.

                It’s obscenely similar to every Thanksgiving he’s watched on television and every Stark holiday he’s been dragged into.

                He drops his fork and ignores the sudden urge to knock over the table.

                Someone nudges his knee under the table and when he looks up Robb is watching him. He tilts his head to the side and his curls bounce a bit. Theon shrugs and mimes smoking before pushing away from the table. All of the eyes in the room are suddenly on him, so he smiles and shrugs before heading out of the dining room. He turns into the hallway and runs a hand through his hair in quick frustrated strokes before heading onto the back porch.

                Jon’s there.

                He hadn’t expected it, but when he replays the _delightful_ Thanksgiving scene in his mind, he realizes he hadn’t seen Jon. The other boy startles and coughs, body twisted at an awkward angle to hide the fact that he’s holding a cigarette. It may have worked, if the cough hadn’t sent up a plume of smoke.

                Theon sighs and sits next to him, holding his hand out with two fingers up. Jon makes him wait for a moment before fishing in his pocket to pull out his cigarettes and give one to Theon.

                Theon is the only other person who knows that Jon smokes. And he only knows because they’ve spent the past four Stark holidays chain smoking on the porch and barely speaking. Jon’s probably just waiting for Theon to tell Robb, but something about their shitty camaraderie on holidays actually keeps Theon from spreading the secret.

                 “Catelyn really hates having you around when her family is here,” Theon smiles.

                “She always hates having me around,” Jon responds. It’s completely self-pitying, Theon thinks, but it _is_ true.

                “Must be awful to fit so poorly into your own family. Can’t imagine how you do it,” Theon says before leaning back and attempting to blow smoke rings.

                “Must be awful to be in love with Robb,” Jon responds. He doesn’t smirk or laugh when Theon whips back upright, and for a second he doubts that he heard him correctly.

                “I’m not.”

                “You come to every family event. There’s a lot of little things too. But you come to these so he doesn’t have to feel bad about you not having anywhere else to go. Even though you hate it as much as I do. Why would you do that if you didn’t love him?”

                “It’s called friendship. Unlike you, some of us have friends.”

                “You have Robb. I have Robb. That’s pretty much it. But I can assure you we think of him differently.”

                Theon takes four drags on his cigarette before he responds.

                “Really fucked up, isn’t it? How good things are for him. If anyone deserves it, it’s him. But it’s really fucked up,” Theon says, though he’s still smiling. Jon doesn’t say anything. Theon uses the hand not holding the cigarette to dig for his phone, which is vibrating. It’s a text from Robb that’s simply one of those stupid emoticon turkeys. Anyone else sending it would have made him roll his eyes. But it’s Robb, so he smiles involuntarily before sighing and tossing it behind him on the porch.

                Jon glances over at him before turning his attention back to the yard.

                “It’s fucked up, yeah. It’s almost more fucked up that he deserves all the good things he gets, because then you can’t even be mad at him. You can’t say it’s not fair,” Jon says, quiet because he’s talking into his hoodie. Theon barks out a laugh and only Jon’s eyes move to look at him.

                “That’s just Robb, isn’t it? Doesn’t even have the decency to be shitty enough to hate,” Theon smirks.

                “I hate Thanksgiving,” Jon tells him. He’s actually looking at him now, head turned instead of just following with his eyes. Theon stubs out the cigarette and stares back at him.

                “Loneliest holiday for single people is Valentine’s day. Loneliest holiday for people without friends is New Year’s. Loneliest holiday for us is Thanksgiving.”

                The Thanksgiving Traditions include dessert and coffee before playing a rousing game of Pictionary.

                For the first time, Theon and Jon completely skip the affair. Instead, Theon drives them back to their flat. (Luckily, he had taken a separate car from the brothers in an attempt to show up late and avoid as much of the gathering as possible). Theon breaks out a handle of spiced rum and they drink it straight out of chipped mugs.

                They don’t even bother turning on the television as background noise.

                “It is shitty,” Jon admits, after half a chipped mug’s worth of rum, “Not being good enough to be a Stark.”

                “It’s shitty,” Theon corrects him, “Not being good enough for Robb Stark.”

                Jon laughs, which he almost never does in front of Theon.

                “I knew it.”

                “Everyone fucking knows it,” Theon scowls back at him. Jon shrugs and doesn’t deny it.

                They sit in silence for a while, and it’s just like any other Stark Family Holiday for them. Theon’s got a finger through the loop of his mug handle and is making a game out of not spilling his drink. It’s Robb’s mug, actually. The trio shares the flat and the dishes, but this one in particular belongs to Robb. It’s got the name of the Medical University he’s going to across the front.

Theon can’t imagine a world in which Robb _doesn’t_ exhaust himself with his classes and his internship in an attempt to save the world.

                Theon can’t imagine a world in which Robb saves him, though. He’s played out the idea of them getting together a hundred times in his head over the last few years. But then Robb was steadily seeing Jeyne for a year and Theon stopped hoping. The two have broken up, but Theon’s done wasting his time pining. Robb’s always going to be around as his friend, and that’s all he needs. He’s selfish enough to want more, but he’s learning to deal with the fact that he’s not getting what he wants.

                He’s managed to handle growing up in an unsteady household. And he’s dealt with his shitty father. He dealt with his mother losing her mind before her death. And he’s dealt with a family reputation that kept the other kids away from him in school. Theon’s dealt with it all with a smile, because he’s learned how to stop caring.

                A shred of him has always considered Robb to be the one thing that went right for him. And a shred of that shred has always imagined that someday, he’s going to get Robb. Logic likes to remind him that having Robb around as his best friend is still the best thing he’s ever had.

                It’s a combination of the rum and of this logic that makes him realize that he can break himself of hoping for Robb if he cuts off any chance of them ever getting together. He looks up at Jon and stares until Jon snaps out of his own reverie.

                “You want to do something really stupid?” Theon asks him. Jon looks at him, puzzled.

                Theon stands up, moves to Jon’s chair and leans down to kiss him, with a hand on each arm of the chair. Jon doesn’t react other than pulling back slightly to look up at him with a mixture of pity and amusement.

                “Any port in a storm,” Theon explains.

                “I really, really hate Thanksgiving,” Jon replies. And then he leans up to kiss Theon. Everything tastes like spiced rum, and drinking on an empty stomach means that the room spins a bit as they clamber across the kitchen. There’s a brief and frustrated argument over whose room they’re using before Jon caves and opens his door.

                They get each other off, ungracefully. They don’t bother to undress. Theon wipes his hand off on Jon’s comforter which earns him a rather intense glare. They don’t speak about it afterwards. Jon mutters something about watching football and Theon rolls his eyes before heading back to his room.

                He digs in his pocket for his phone before remembering that he left it on the porch.

                Robb arrives an hour later with Theon’s phone and two slices of pie. Pumpkin for Jon. Blueberry for Theon.

                Theon wants to kick a hole through his door, because there isn’t a world in which Robb wouldn’t bring home slices of pie.

                He grins lopsidedly at Robb, takes the pie and starts to head back to his room. Robb stops him and tries to convince him to start watching Christmas movies with him, now that Thanksgiving is over.

                Jon ducks in and out of the living room briefly, barely looking at Theon and Robb who are, in fact, starting a Christmas movie marathon.

                Theon looks through his phone and finds various other texts from Robb, all done in emoticons surrounding the turkey. Every single part of him _hates_ how much he loves them.

                He considers texting Jon a warning to never talk about their situation. But then he remembers that Jon gets it. That Jon’s always going to be the only other person who gets it. And he knows Jon isn’t about to say anything either.

                Someday, Theon will tell Robb. And it will completely ruin the clinging hope that someday Robb is going to see in him what Theon’s always seen in Robb.

                Today, though, is Thanksgiving. Theon’s least favorite holiday.

                But he’s watching Christmas movies with Robb, who brought him blueberry pie and didn’t ask him why he left so early.

Robb falls asleep half an hour into Rudolph. Jon walks in while Theon is tossing a blanket over Robb and stops to watch. They watch each other from across the room before Theon shrugs. Jon faintly smiles, shakes his head, and leaves the room.

It’s simple enough, Theon thinks. Fucking around with Jon means never having Robb. And never having Robb means moving on. Jon’s not about to get hung up on Theon and he’s also the only person in the world who could ever imagine what life’s like for Theon. It’s simple, he thinks.

But all of the logic in the world doesn’t keep his mouth from twitching into a smile when Robb mutters in his sleep. 


	2. Sinus Arrhythmia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BACKSTREET'S BACK ALRIGHT

                Jon intends to head directly to his room when he makes it back to the flat. It’s been raining, and he’s almost completely soaked through just from the walk from the subway to their apartment. It’s a Saturday morning, and he usually wouldn’t be out to begin with, but he had forgotten his phone charger at work the night before and really doesn’t want to spend the weekend without it.

                He plans to plug in his phone, change into something dry, and fall back asleep. Honestly, he’s not one hundred percent dedicated to changing. He just wants to go back to sleep.

                Jon’s considerate enough to be quiet when he comes back in. It’s early enough that his brother and Theon are probably still sleeping. They’ve all got weekends off, miraculously. Jon’s not bitter enough about having to wake up that he’s going to get them up as well.

                He’s surprised when he hears voices and realizes that they’re up when they don’t have to be. Jon shrugs off his jacket and is stepping out of his shoes when he starts to hear laughter. It’s going to be harder to sleep with the other two already awake.

                “It’s hard to hear if you’re laughing,” says Robb, slightly annoyed.

                “I didn’t think you’d fucking whip out a stethoscope,” Theon argues.

                Now Jon’s interested enough to glance into the living room as he heads down the hallway. Sure enough, Theon’s lying back on the couch. Robb’s got the earpieces to his stethoscope in. He’s holding it to Theon’s chest and giving Theon an intense deadpan.

                “You said you had a sinus arrhythmia. At school they said it’s usually just in kids. I want to hear it.”

                “It’s what the doctor says. Cyclists sometimes keep it when they’re older. And swimmers,” Theon tells him. Robb’s staring at the floor with his brow furrowed, trying to focus. Theon’s watching him. Suddenly Robb looks startled and glances back up at Theon. Theon stares back at him and Robb focuses on the ground again. Then Robb glances back up.

                “I mean it keeps speeding up but it’s not corresponding with your breathing,” Robb says. Jon resists the urge to laugh at Robb’s obliviousness.

                “I don’t know what to say. I’m just telling you what the doctor says. He must hear it.”

                “I’m really shitty at this. Honestly. The whole med student thing,” Robb says. He’s never said anything to Jon before about not doing well in school. From the hesitation on Theon’s face, he’s guessing this is the first Theon is hearing of it as well.

                “You know, if anyone can save someone it’s probably you,” Theon mutters. It’s soft and sincere and Jon’s thrown off by how different Theon is when he thinks it’s just Robb listening. Usually he’d expect a joke or an eye roll.

                Robb smiles up at Theon from where he’s still sitting on the floor. He’s surprised too, though far less so than Jon.

                “I mean a guy who likes fucking Captain America is _definitely_ the type to save lives,” Theon continues. Jon rolls his eyes while Robb lightly shoves Theon. Theon settles back on the couch and closes his eyes before guiding the stethoscope back to the spot over his heart.

                Even from the threshold, Jon can see Theon taking deep breaths. Robb’s gone serious again and they’re completely silent. Then he beams and lets out an excited little “hah!”. Theon’s eyes open and Jon can see him watching Robb carefully.

                “That’s really cool.”

                “I mean, sure. Cool. Heart irregularity. Totally impressive. God, you’re weird,” Theon chides. Robb’s still smiling, and Theon’s voice shifts from mocking to soft affection while he speaks.

                Robb scoffs and pulls out the earpieces to the stethoscope and starts to stand up.

                And then Theon, very quietly, starts singing the Cascada song.

                “Can’t you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last, need you in my life.”

                Robb screws his face up and lets out another short laugh. Theon gets a bit louder.

                “Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster,” Theon sings.

                “That’s so not the same song,” Robb tells him. But he’s smiling a bit wider.

                “SHOT THROUGH THE HEART. AND YOU’RE TO BLAME. YOU GIVE LOVE. A BAD NAME.”

                “That’s not even about heartbeats,” Robb laughs.

                “Can you feel my heart beat to the beat of the drum? Oh what a shame that you came here with someone,” Theon continues.

                Robb’s holding his stethoscope in one hand, loosely. He’s just looking down at Theon, laughing when Theon starts to dance while still lying down. Then Jon must make a noise, because Theon abruptly stops and glares at him.

                There’s a beat of silence before Theon smiles one of his normal, cruel smiles.

                “You look like you got caught in the rain. Dumbass.”

                Theon’s no longer got all of his focus lasering in on Robb, which is unfortunate, Jon thinks. Because Robb’s still watching Theon. But his grin has changed into something else entirely. The second Theon switched his smile for Jon, Robb’s changed too. And now he’s looking at Theon with a sort of confusion that Jon’s seen before. Never in Robb. But he’s seen it.

                The kind of look that someone gets when they’ve just realized something. When they’ve just seen something new in a person they’ve known for ages.

                Theon says something else. Likely an insult that Jon doesn’t even hear. Robb shakes his head slightly, then smiles again and offers to make coffee. The moment passes, but Jon’s fairly certain that something’s irrevocably changed for Robb.

                He’s just not certain what Robb’s going to do. 


	3. Clock

                It’s 11 pm when Theon starts to think Robb isn’t coming home tonight. He had mentioned going out for drinks with some of his classmates, but he never mentioned he might go home with one of them. Theon checks his phone at least once a minute, until 11:11.

                Then he hears Sansa Stark in his head, talking about how 11:11 is meant for wishing on. He throws his phone onto his nightstand and heads into the kitchen to grab a beer. Jon looks up from the television briefly, but primarily ignores him. He looks up again when he hears a second bottle open a few minutes later.

                Theon continues to ignore him and settles onto the kitchen counter, staring resolutely at the clock. He figures Robb will be home by midnight, if he comes home at all.

                By 11: 56, he’s had:

                Two beers

                A shot of Robb’s whiskey

                Half a cup of a vodka-coke mix

                When the clock strikes midnight, he throws the empty glass into the sink. It makes a loud enough sound to draw Jon’s attention again. Theon shrugs at him, grab’s Robb’s bottle of whiskey and heads to the living room.

                He briefly considers sitting next to Jon before throwing himself into the recliner instead. Jon watches him, expression blank. Theon gestures with the bottle of whiskey and shrugs.

                “It’s a Friday night. Why not?”

                “You drinking that because it’s Robb’s?” Jon responds. He’s quiet. Theon struggles to decide whether the undercurrent in his voice was amusement or pity.

                “I’m drinking it because I like whiskey,” Theon smiles. Jon shakes his head and focuses on the movie he’s been watching. Theon’s looking at the television, but isn’t actually watching it.

                His fingers start drumming on the bottle by 12:30.

                By 1:00, Theon is drunk enough to be obvious about watching the door. Three times he can feel Jon glance over at him. The movie ends, but Jon doesn’t immediately head back to his room. He changes the channel a few times until stopping on The Discovery Channel.

                “What time is it?” Theon asks. He hasn’t spoken in long enough that Jon jumps slightly.

                “1:40. Maybe you should go sleep it off,” Jon shrugs. He nods his head to the remnants of the whiskey, which is now sitting on the coffee table. Theon glances at the door again and shrugs back at him.

                “Maybe he’s just staying out late,” Jon says, after a pause. Theon looks back to him, and he half expects Theon to glare at him. Instead, he’s smiling as always.

                “He’s getting laid. It’s two in the morning. And he’s _Robb_.”

                “He’s probably coming home. You know him. I know him. He isn’t exactly a one night stand kind of guy. It’s Robb.”

                Theon ignores him in favor of standing up and grabbing the whiskey again. Jon starts to say something, but then the bottle is directly in front of his face.

                “Drink,” Theon tells him. Jon scoffs, put off by the command. Theon shrugs at him.

                “It’s two in the morning,” Jon argues.

                “It’s two in the morning on the weekend. And we’re both alone.”

                Jon ends up finishing the rest of Robb’s whiskey with Theon sitting next to him on the couch. He sets the empty bottle back onto the coffee table and turns his head to look at Theon. Theon’s looking back at him, but neither one is willing to speak first.

                Robb has a small, old clock in his room that they found in a garage sale years ago. It’s old enough that it still chimes on the hour.

                It rings once and Theon turns his head to look in the direction of the noise. It rings again and he very nearly stops smiling. On the third ring, he laughs and moves to kiss Jon. He doesn’t expect Jon to be pliable, but the whiskey must have taken its toll on him as well.

                He slides a hand into Jon’s hair, pulls slightly on his curls, and smirks when Jon scoffs into his mouth.

                It’s easy enough to slide his tongue into Jon’s mouth. He’s starting to realize he’s gotten more than he bargained for when Jon starts to push him back onto the couch. With any other hookup, Theon would have moved his mouth down to their neck by now. But with Jon, keeping their mouths together means not having to speak.

                Jon pulls back briefly before tilting his head in the opposite direction and they’re kissing again. It’s not coordinated, because they’ve both been drinking. It sure as hell isn’t romantic.

                It isn’t rough, though. They’re drunk enough or depressed enough to be unwilling to make this into another fight.

                Instead, they’re more eager than anything else. Jon flits his hands around Theon, barely touching his sides or his stomach or his arms. Theon wants to roll his eyes, because _of course_ Jon is going to make the situation more awkward by not simply going with it.

                Theon starts to push back on him, trying to get leverage on Jon. The effort is enough to spur Jon into holding him back down. It means letting Jon get control over him, but at least it means the boy isn’t so afraid to touch him now.

                Jon’s tongue is still in his mouth when Theon starts to unzip his pants. When Theon slips his hand around his cock, Jon’s tongue pulls away. He’s panting into his mouth, more or less in time with Theon’s strokes.

                Jon’s quiet. Theon remembers that from last time they did this. This time it pisses him off significantly more. He experiments with adding a twist to the end of each stroke, but Jon just quietly breaths up against his mouth. Theon swears Jon’s about ready to come and he’s yet to make a sound.

                And then suddenly, Jon’s pulling away from him. Theon’s offended until he realizes that Jon’s undoing Theon’s zipper now.

                “It’s easier if we just take turns,” Theon says. Jon ignores him in favor of moving to straddle him once he’s got his pants half-way down his legs.

                “What? Frotting? Are you still fourteen?” Theon continues, taunting. Jon moves his hips lightly, one eyebrow raised. Theon clenches his jaw and keeps quiet.

                Theon’s not drunk enough to ignore the fact that Jon’s literally humping him into their couch. He’s certain he’ll remember this well enough in the morning to feel like a complete idiot. At least Jon is bound to be in the same boat.

                Jon picks up speed slightly, and the distraction of skin against his cock is enough to make him stop thinking so much. He slides a hand back into Jon’s hair and pulls him down closer.

                To be honest, with Jon’s face burrowed into Theon’s neck, they don’t have to look at each other. It makes it easier.

                For a few minutes, nothing matters but friction.

                And then Robb’s name spills out of Theon’s lips. Not once. Or twice.

                When he says it, he says it with his eyes closed and in quick repetition.

                Jon stutters to a stop, completely tense. He makes a noise that Theon pretends isn’t a laugh. Theon digs his fingers into Jon’s back and keeps completely quiet until they both come.

                Theon’s lying alone in his own bed when he hears the front door open at 4:16 in the morning.

                Robb’s contently humming “Poker Face” when he passes by Theon’s room and into his own.

                Theon copes by squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to fall further in love with the things Robb does. 


	4. Ketchup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for it being over a month since the last chapter. I'm a dweeb and got distracted with oneshots. BACK TO CHAPTER FIC WE GO.

                Robb’s the last of the trio to wake up the next morning. Jon’s cooking oatmeal for himself and keeping his back to Theon, who’s sitting at the dinky kitchen table and drinking his coffee. When Robb stumbles into the room, they both look up at him before quickly looking away and he figures they’re both a bit miffed by him not checking in last night. To be fair, he’s an adult. To be twice as fair, he lost his phone in the cab en route to the bar. He’d been relatively certain he hadn’t woken them up when he came in, but they’re both ignoring him and he wonders if he’s forgotten something he said.

            “…Any more coffee?” he asks, hoping to break the silence. Theon turns to look at him again and raises an eyebrow before gesturing to the full pot and calling him a dumbass. Robb smiles back at him and Theon gestures to the fridge.

            “Out of creamer,” Theon explains. Robb narrows his eyes, because Theon had mentioned being out of _Theon’s_ creamer a few days before. _Robb’s_ creamer should still be in the fridge. (Jon, for his part, drinks his coffee black.)

                He moves to the table to look down into Theon’s mug and makes a noise of protest when he sees that it’s a deep tan instead of black.

                “You don’t even like flavored creamer. Hell, you complain about hazelnut in particular,” Robb scolds him. For emphasis, he cups the back of Theon’s head with a dull “thwack”.

                “Better than drinking it black,” Theon smiles up at him, smug. He maintains eye contact while lifting the mug up to his mouth and Robb maintains his composure until Theon sets the cup down again with an exaggerated “Ahhh”.

                And then in one quick movement, he’s shoved Theon off onto the floor and appropriated his seat for himself. Theon laughs once, from the floor, and looks up at him with his head leaned back. Robb makes a show out of picking up the mug and taking a sip himself. He realizes he’s smiling more than he means to be, and he keeps the coffee in front of his face for an extra beat. Theon’s smile changes to something a bit sadder, he thinks.

                It’s not actually the first time that he’s struck with how badly he wants to keep him smiling for real.

                When he sets down the mug, he notices the smell of burning oatmeal and looks over to Jon.

                Jon’s holding a wooden spoon in one hand. His other hand is wrapped around the handle of the pot. But he’s looking at Robb with intense focus, head just barely tilted. He snaps back into stirring the oatmeal when Robb looks at him. When Jon looks up from the pot again, he raises an eyebrow slowly before jerking his head slightly towards Theon.

                Theon’s finally starting to pick himself up off the floor, after aiming a light kick at Robb’s shin. Robb glances at Theon out of the corner of his eye before looking at Jon again. Jon’s still staring at him with that _knowing_ -question in his eyes. He jerks his head towards Theon again. Raises his eyebrow a bit higher.

                Robb fidgets slightly in his seat before turning away from Jon. He can still hear him sigh.

                “Sighing because you burned your boring ass oatmeal?” Theon asks. Jon ignores him in favor of scooping said oatmeal into a bowl and heading out of the room. When he passes he tells Robb they’ll talk later. Jon’s watching Theon when he says it, and Theon smirks back at him, though Robb can see his fingers twitch.

                “What’s that about?” Theon asks when Jon leaves the kitchen. Robb jumps slightly and scrambles for an excuse.

                “…No idea. You eat yet? I can make eggs,” Robb offers. Theon agrees with a grunt while staring at the door Jon had left through. Robb chews on his lip before moving to pull the eggs out of the fridge.

                “No more ketchup, though,” Theon warns him. Robb furrows his brow and turns to see a bottle half-full of ketchup on the door of the fridge.

                “Come again?”

                “Oh, sorry. I’ll correct myself. Don’t put ketchup on your fucking eggs.”

                “I only put it on my own! You don’t have to eat it,” Robb protests.

                “Yeah, and I shouldn’t have to watch _you_ eat it,” Theon answers. His voice is suddenly close and the shock makes Robb trip and fall slightly into the fridge. Theon’s arm reaches around behind him to grab the bottle of ketchup and pull it out. Robb regains his footing and makes a failed grab for the bottle while Theon dances away.

                Theon isn’t tall enough to play a good game of keep-away, but he’s fast enough to play “You can’t catch me”. The kitchen isn’t exactly conducive to their game, but they take six laps around the table until Theon stumbles over one of the chairs and Robb catches him by the elbow.

                Despite being shorter, Theon still attempts to hold the bottle out of reach above Robb’s head. Robb looks at Theon and raises both eyebrows before wordlessly reaching up to easily wrap a hand around the bottle. Theon’s not willing to lose so easily, and has a tight enough grip that it does take a second for Robb to wrench it away from him.

                He’s got one hand still wrapped around Theon’s elbow. He doesn’t think as much as he should before he tugs lightly to pull him closer. It feels like static is running through his spine when Theon moves closer. He tries to resist the urge to close his fingers more tightly around Theon’s arm. He gives up and goes for it when Theon takes another step without prompting.

                Robb blindly sets the ketchup bottle on the edge of the table and just starts to open his mouth when Jon walks back into the room with an empty bowl.

                Within seconds, Robb’s back at the fridge pulling out eggs and Theon’s “accidentally” knocking the bottle of ketchup to the floor. Jon says nothing, puts the dish in the sink, and heads back out of the kitchen while Robb’s asking “Fried or scrambled?”


End file.
